


Intimacy Is:

by tango1_1



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Study, Consensual Underage Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Lance thinks about a lot of things, Loss of Virginity, M/M, No fluff here folks, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Pansexual Lance (Voltron), Sexuality Crisis, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 02:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16610135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tango1_1/pseuds/tango1_1
Summary: This is a story about Sex.





	Intimacy Is:

**Author's Note:**

> WOW. This was a whopper to write. I had the idea for it about two years ago and have been working on it on and off since then. I'm glad it's finally finished, and I'm glad it turned out the way it did. 
> 
> TW for mild homophobia. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Veronica, what was it like when you had sex for the first time?”

It’s a Monday, Lance knows– because he’s been counting them down, Monday after Monday after Monday, until the one finally hits where he doesn’t have to go to school.

Summer, though it’s been hot for months.

His sister looks down from her position on the bed, balanced precariously between a wad of blanket and a Hello Kitty lapdesk missing the left ear due to spilled nail polish remover. She paints her toes.

“Total crap,” she says.

Lance sits with his back against the bedframe. His head rests over the edge, eyes staring pointedly at the off-white ceiling. He turns towards her, shifting his entire body in order not to strain his neck. The silent gesture is just enough to get her to go on.

“Hurt like hell, was over in five minutes, and then he just fell asleep– all gross and sweaty. I swear to god Lance, fucking teenagers are disgusting, get yourself an older man.” She dips the light pink back in the bottle and moves onto the next toe, ready with magenta.

“I’m not gay,” Lance scoffs, eyes finding the ceiling once again.

“Not yet.”

He throws a pillow at her.

“Jesus fucking- god dammit Lance, you little shit! You messed up my toenails!”

“You called me gay!”

“I said _not yet,_ weren’t you listening? Now go downstairs and get some paper towels, and you’re paying me back for– oh god, now Hello Kitty’s missing her other ear!”

Lance runs downstairs, and comes back up with a wad of paper towels tucked beneath his armpit. That night, he doesn’t throw any more pillows. He doesn’t ask:

_Did it really hurt that bad?_

_Why did you even want to?_

_Didn’t you feel any different after?_

 

_\--_

 

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

The fake ID worked well enough.

Lights glare everywhere, in every color, coming from every direction. A thick sap of booze and sweat coats the floor, filling the air with a sweet and tangy musk that catches easy in Lance’s throat. It’s loud– so loud that Lance can’t think straight, can’t walk straight, can’t even feel his heart trying to break free from his ribcage. The sound pierces right through his skull and into his hips, along with all the blood in his body.

And yeah, that sounds kinda sick, but you’d just have to be there, feel the vibrations, the heaviness, the wonder–  of Sex. Or dance. Whichever word you prefer to use.

Lance makes his way through the crowd and sits down at the bar, letting his natural weight spin the stool a few times before he settles in. To his right is a hot number in a mini skirt, too much makeup, and hair done _just so_ to make it look messy when really it’s not.  She leans over the edge of the bar, boobs on full-cleavage-mode between her folded arms, and says something to the bartender. He nods and begins working on a drink. Soon bored, the woman lifts her arms off the bar to adjust her bra, arm hair sticking to whatever crusted layer had been spilled there.

It’s stunning, she’s stunning.

Lance leans towards her, _just so_ to make it look like he doesn’t care, when he really does. His pickup line gets the usual reaction: distaste, and when she looks at him, confusion. “Really?” She all but shouts into his ear, “ _You’re_ interested in _me?”_ Again, she looks him up and down.

_Did it really hurt that bad?_

It doesn’t hurt.

Doesn’t hurt when she introduces him to her friend– the one she says usually gets all the ladies, but doesn’t swing that way, if you catch her drift. Not when Lance sees a tall frame and a square jaw, and something surges in him that isn’t better, only different. Doesn’t hurt when together, they take the third shot, or the fourth. Not when the friend takes him round the back, and he follows willingly, giggles at the tip of his tongue.

Definitely, _definitely_ doesn’t hurt when that tongue meets another, and a leg slides between his own. He’s ready for it, _he’s ready for it_ , maybe.

 

Lance wakes on a couch that’s become all-too familiar. He groans, loudly.

“Oh, so you’re awake, are you?” Hunk shouts from the other room, “You want coffee? Thinking of making hangover pancakes, too…”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone, did I?” Lance shouts back, then grimaces. He rubs his temples.

“God, no– I wouldn’t let you do that.” Hunk comes around the corner with coffee in hand. He sits on Lance’s toes as he passes him a steaming mug.

“So,” he begins, “a guy this time, huh? You wanna talk about it?”

 

\--

 

“Mom, dad, I– I’m not straight. I’m gay?”

They send him off to military school.

 

\--

 

Here is a list of things that happen between _then_ and _now_ :

The most wonderful person in the world holds his hand as he cries, and agrees to go with him, to go with him anywhere. Hunk is afraid of heights, but he could be a pilot, maybe. If he can do it from the ground.

Lance meets people. He meets his idol, who is the strongest, smartest man alive. Who somehow got into the Garrison at _fifteen_ , between writing essays on astrophysics and doing pushups.

He meets a girl who is a boy. Or, a boy who is a girl. Or– just a person, really, who tells him that they’re not as confused as everyone makes it sound. Which makes him smile, because it’s lucky.

And then he meets Keith.

The top of his class, and then the dropout– a boy who’s always ready for contradiction. He leaves Lance feeling winded, hot-tempered, heart beating fast and fists on high alert. Lance thinks that maybe it’s the mullet, or the resting bitch face, or the pretty eyes.

The Kerberos mission fails.

Keith disappears.

A giant spaceship falls crashing to the ground.

They fly, and they fight, and they topple through space at an ever-changing speed. They meet a princess, and an advisor. Lance becomes the Blue Paladin, defender of the universe, and he pushes so, so far.

And then,

Perhaps too soon,

Lance has Sex with Keith.

 

\--

 

It’s nighttime when Lance has Sex with Keith. Or at least, as nighttime as the castle allows it to be. Silence haunts the pristine and empty halls, broken only by the sound of footsteps – Lance’s footsteps – as he makes his way towards the room of the Red Paladin. It’s for some stupid reason, like returning a book or picking a fight or something like that. Lance walks up to the door and gives it a few solid knocks, before retreating back a step, just in case.

The door slides open, and Lance’s eyes widen just briefly.

There stands Keith, with little more than a towel hanging from his hips. Fresh out of the shower, his skin takes on that special glow, likely moist to the touch but not wet, while soft red patches grow in areas exposed to heat. And his face, well– droplets caught in eyelids, to say the least. Lance gulps.

“Hey,” Keith says in a voice that’s barely louder than a whisper, “did you need something?”

It takes Lance more than a minute to regain his cool, self control fighting sleepy, sexy thoughts. He runs a hand through his hair, and remembers why he came.

“Oh, yeah,” he begins, “I finished book one of Cryptid Hunters. Do you have the next in the series?”

Keith squints for a moment, halfway between confused and exhausted. “Huh? Oh– yeah, right. Come on in.”  He turns around and gestures for Lance to follow.

The door slides shut behind him as Lance steps into the unfamiliar room. The lights are dim, turned all the way down, probably– the castle doesn’t ever let them go completely off. A cold glow settles on each surface, blurring it to Lance’s eyes. “Sorry it’s so dark,” Keith says, “I was about to go to sleep. Here– I know my nightlight’s somewhere…”

 _Ping._ Soft red light fills the room, casting heavy shadows.

Lance takes a seat at the foot of Keith’s bed, while the boy in question rummages through his various bookshelves. Knick-knacks and oddities cover each surface, scraps of paper scrawled with notes line each wall. His room is messy– more messy than Lance would have expected. Though, then again, the Red Paladin’s mysterious desert shack wasn’t much better.

“So what did you think?” Keith asks, not stopping in his movement.

“Oh, uh,” Lance pulls his knees up to his chest, “It was good. I really liked the part where Bigfoot explained the nature of the woods.”

Keith chuckles, and when he turns around, Lance notices a soft smile lingering on his face. It’s all so smooth, he thinks.

“Oh yeah? I really liked that part too.” Keith walks over to the foot of the bed. “Here, I found the second book.”

“Great, thanks man.”

Lance tries to clear the haziness by standing, but ends up hitting his head on the upper ceiling of the bunk. Cursing, he reaches to catch his fall, and–

“Wait–”

“Ouch!”

“Dammit Lance!”

The other boy winces, clutching the book between them, prioritizing its safety over Lance’s poor, crushed, embarrassed body.

It takes less than a moment for them catch their breath, Keith quickly propping himself up on his forearms and placing the copy of _Cryptid Hunters 2_ aside. Which maybe isn’t the best idea, actually. Lance notes this as his eyes betray him, trailing down the Red Paladin’s still very naked chest, down to his stomach, and happy trail, and– the rest is now just barely covered by the towel. He gulps, and looks up.

It doesn’t help. Dark hair frames the boy’s face, streams of red shining in to reveal thin but perfect lips, freshly shaved skin, a defined jaw. It’s almost unfair how attractive he is. Lance squirms underneath the Red Paladin, which causes a small gasp to escape the boy above him.

“Oh,” Keith whispers. Lance realizes why. He flushes.

“I’m hard, aren’t I.”

“Yup.”

“Shit. I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.”

“No, uh–” Keith stammers out, “It’s ok. It happens all the time.”

Lance winces, and begins to move. “Here, let me just–”

“No!” Keith exclaims. The Blue Paladin stops his movement, startled. “Sorry. That was loud. Wai– wait. Let me get off you.”

Keith shifts to get off the bed, but fumbles halfway through the attempt, and falls, even heavier, onto Lance. His leg slips between the other boy’s.

_Oh._

“Keith, are you…?”

 _“Shit,”_ he curses under his breath, and moves to stand, but with that leg jammed right between Lance’s, it isn’t easy and the friction causes–

“A-ah!” the Blue Paladin gasps, rather against his will.

Keith goes very, very still.

He tries to move again, and Lance hisses. “Oh _god,”_ Keith breathes out.

The Blue Paladin opens his eyes, having barely noticed he ever shut them. Keith’s pupils are _blown,_ and patchy, red spots appear in greater numbers on his skin. This is arousal, Lance recognizes. Suddenly, his entire body feels hot.

“Can I? Is it– are you?” He barely stammers out.

“Could I kiss you?” Keith asks.

Lance nods his head.

It’s soft, at first, but that doesn’t make it any less electrifying. Lance’s body tingles as if it’s fallen asleep, and his hands fidget by his sides, rolling the fabric of the duvet between thumb and finger. He can’t tell if he’s shaking or if his heart is just beating that fast, but either way, he likes it. Keith licks against his bottom lip, and subconsciously, he lets the boy in. Slowly, smoothly, their tongues melt together, exploring roof of mouth, teeth, lips. A soft whine escapes Lance, and it turn, the boy above him lets out a stifled moan.

Keith hesitantly, but surely places a hand on Lance’s upper thigh, and starts to massage soft circles into his exposed flesh. Surprised, the Blue Paladin hiccups, and Keith echoes it with a giggle of his own. “This okay?” he breathes into Lance’s mouth.

“Yeah,” Lance responds, and given the silent permission, moves his hands onto Keith’s body as well. One finds itself buried in that thick mane of hair, while the other, more adventurous, traces a gentle line down the boy’s spine. Keith’s head pulls back, and he moans, tailbone curling into the movement. His forehead falls to bump against Lance’s own, and it’s unbelievably warm, almost as if he has a fever. Their skin sticks together, humidity building between the wetness from Keith’s shower, and the combination of both their sweat. As if by instinct, the Red Paladin pushes his leg deeper, driving his hips into Lance’s pelvis. It sends shivers up his spine.

_“Ah! Ke- Keith.”_

_“Yeah.”_

Keith shifts back just enough to move the rest of his body in between Lance’s legs, and pulls them both up to sitting in the process. He moves to tug at the other boy’s shirt, but a hand stops him.

“Oh, ah– sorry. Is this…?”

“No, um. It’s just–” Lance pauses. “I’m… skinny?”

The Red Paladin gives a puzzled look. “So am I? We both are?”

“Yeah, well, you know. I’m skinnier.”

Keith’s dark eyebrows furrow. “Not everything has to be a competition, Lance.”

“Of course! I know, that’s not what I– mph!” Lance is cut off by Keith’s lips, which only pull back to get out of the way of his shirt as it’s pulled off. Lance scrunches his eyes, and when he opens them again, Keith is staring. Briefly, their eyes meet, and the Red Paladin instantly looks down, face going even redder. He leans in and nibbles just below Lance’s jawline, before taking in a shaky breath. His lips move to the boy’s ear. “You’re really pretty,” he whispers.

They fall back into the sheets, and all the while, Keith’s mouth barely leaves Lance’s neck. He bites soft, then sucks hard. He stills, and glides, leaving behind the puffy hotness of breath as he inhales the other boy’s scent. Lance moans, and Keith takes that as a signal to start rolling his hips again. Before long, they’ve created a rhythm – sucking, kissing, rolling, scratching, moaning – it reverberates back and forth to create an unbelievable sense of momentum. The intensity leaves Lance gasping for breath. It leaves him dizzy.

_Why did you even want to?_

He wants to. He wants to, and it’s so complicated. He wishes it wasn’t. He decides to pretend it isn’t.

“Pants,” he breathes into Keith’s ear.

“I don’t have a condom,” Keith murmurs.

Lance giggles. “You won’t get me pregnant.”

“No,” Keith sighs, “I mean– I’m clean. What about you?”

“Oh.” A sour taste tingles at the back of Lance’s throat as a blush crawls up to his ears. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”

Keith catches his eyes, and this time, he doesn’t look away. “Okay,” he whispers. It’s just barely audible, Lance would have missed it if the boy wasn’t just inches from his face. Keith holds holds eye contact for a long time – so long that for a moment, Lance thinks he might have changed his mind – but then he reaches down, and with a small tug, pulls Lance’s shorts past his hips. Lance gasps at the feeling of his freed erection, and more potently, at the now unmuted touch of Keith’s own length pressed against the inside of his thigh. He breaks eye contact just long enough to glance down between them, and his breath stops.

He realizes, now, that there really is no way to describe it. Being completely exposed, yes. But more urgently, being gifted someone else’s exposure. It shakes him, buries him, makes him want to hold on.

They spend little time untangling themselves from the rest of their clothes, and as they peel off their last layers, it feels like change. Lance smooths his hands down Keith’s sides, just to feel it, and the boy above him melts into the touch. He groans, and starts seeking friction between them. A small line of precum is drawn back and forth on Lance’s thigh from the movement, a spark of cold wetness in the otherwise hot room. In a moment of boldness, Lance makes a decision. He moves a hand from Keith’s hip to his lower stomach, and with the gentlest of touches, strokes his fingertips across the boy’s length.

“Nnnhhh!” Lance receives, and he feels powerful.

He tries again, this time wrapping his fingers around the erection, giving it a few soft pumps. Keith thrusts into the movement, sharp and twitchy, and lets out another groan. Lance notices that his jaw is clenched tight, so he leads Keith’s lips to his, and sucks one into his mouth.

“God, fu–” Keith grunts against him, and Lance moans in response. “You’re– you’re so–”

Without warning, he reaches down and wraps a hand around Lance’s cock. Electricity is sent up his spine, and he arches off the bed.

“Keith!”

“Let go,” he rumbles, “I’m gonna prepare you.”

Past the point of shyness and clouded by arousal, Lance releases Keith and spreads his legs to give better access. “Please,” he sighs.

Keith’s nostrils flare, and he pumps up and down a few more times before trying to spread precome onto his fingers. “Tell me if it hurts,” he says.

It doesn’t hurt. Lance arches when the first finger slips inside him, easier than he expected. It sends a wave of pleasure throughout his body. Before Keith even has the chance to move, Lance breathes out a broken sentence, “You can add– add another. Add another.”

Hesitantly, the boy above him slips another finger in beside the first, and gives a small thrust. It touches something inside Lance, and he moans. Struck, he throws an arm over his face and laughs. “What the hell, how does this feel so good?”

Now confident, the Red Paladin adds one more finger. This time it’s a little tight, creating a deep, coiling pleasure in Lance’s gut– one big melting pot of fear and arousal, affection and curiosity. He wants to explain this feeling to Keith, but he can’t seem to find the words.

“I think I’m ready,” he says instead.

As Keith lines himself up with Lance’s entrance, he can’t help but think that there’s no turning back. _This is it,_ his mind provides,

_this is the moment._

_You’re here._

With a shaky breath, Keith begins to push inside him. He barely has the head inside when he hears the boy below him yelp “Stop!”

It hurts.

It hurts really bad.

This is so much more than fingers, too much. He can feel his body twitch around the invasion, and suddenly his entire being panics. _Maybe this is wrong,_ he thinks, _why does it hurt so much? How am I gonna handle this? I can’t handle this!_

He’s brought back to reality when a hand is placed gently on his cheek. “Hey,” Keith whispers, “You’re okay. Do you want me to pull out?”

“No!” Lance exclaims. He feels the boy above him flinch. “No, sorry I– it’s just been a while. You can keep going. Just– just be slow, okay?”

Keith nods.

It takes time, but with gentle thrusting and soft kisses, Keith makes it all the way inside. As he bottoms out, he moans. Lance expects the boy to say something, or to start moving, but he stays still. It’s surreal– Keith is above him, around him, _inside him,_ and he has never felt so whole. What does that even mean?

“You can–”

“Can I–?”

“Yeah.”

Slowly, Keith begins to move back and forth. He buries his head in Lance’s shoulder, and lets out an unbelievable groan, entire body shuddering. As if connected, sounds start spilling from Lance’s throat in tandem. He shakes as if he cannot allow his body to be anything but a response, absorbing the intensity of the moment and echoing it back. The two stay like that – reflecting, expanding, amplifying – until neither one of them can take it any longer.

Keith’s hips stutter, and he pushes, pushes, _pushes_ forward like he can’t control his body’s movement. A strangled sigh escapes his lips, and without warning, so do the rushed and desperate words:

“Nnnng- Ah! I love you!”

Shocked, Lance feels his stomach churn as his body responds viscerally. The orgasm is ripped out of him. He releases a silent cry as he comes undone–  eyes stinging, hands shaking, body pulsing.

Heart hurting.

They lay there for a long, long time.

 

\--

 

“Hey you guys? There’s uh– there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

Keith stops talking to Lance after they have Sex.

“Well, you see– and this may come as a surprise to y’all, because of how slick I am with the _ladies_. But you know how we thought Pidge was a boy? And then they weren’t?”

Well, that’s not entirely true. Keith talks to Lance, but it’s like nothing ever happened between them. Like, that’s just a normal thing teenagers do, have Sex and then not talk about it. Say Things, and hold you in their arms, and then not talk about it.

Lance gets the message.

“Well, it’s the same with me. You might think I’m straight, but I’m not. Yeah, I’m not straight.”

 

Still, though, it probably isn’t a good reason for him to come out.

 

Keith flinches, softly, as the heavy _T_ at the end of the word _straight_ echoes through the room, still caught on the tip of Lance’s tongue. Their eyes connect for a moment before Lance looks away. _This isn’t about him,_ he thinks. _This is about being honest._ Lance can feel everyone’s eyes on him – chewing stopped, glasses placed back on the table – and he eases into his stage personality. He slouches in his chair, a coy grin resting too easy on his face.

“Don’t worry, though– I won’t hit on you guys or anything. I have taste, after all.”

Keith flinches again.

Hunk mocks offense, and Pidge begins to cackle. “Literally no one _ever_ thought you were straight, Lance,” they say sarcastically. They're smiling, though. “Welcome to team gay, buddy.”

Shiro frowns, clearly dissatisfied with the team’s reaction. “It’s important that you have pride in who you are,” he tacks on, “We are with you, Lance. Gay or straight.”

In theory, these are the words he has been longing to hear. These are the words he should have heard already. And yet, these are the wrong words.

“Guys,” Hunk says, “Lance likes girls too, you know. He’s bi.”

No, it’s still not right.

Lance rubs at the back of his head, and smiles. “Yeah, something like that.”

He cries that night.

Were you to ask him why, he wouldn’t have an answer.

 

\--

 

There are five spaces in the castle that Lance likes best: his room, his lion’s hangar, the pool, the showers, and the lounge. He wanders them comfortably, and often on his own– Pidge and Hunk, Keith and Shiro, Allura and Coran. These days, quiet is Lance’s canvas, filled with restless thoughts and fake conversations and memories.

It’s been one week since Lance had Sex with Keith.

Lance decides quiet is good, because it hints at closure. One can think themselves into understanding, if they try hard enough. So he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks.

He can’t solve it though.

_“I love you!”_

Lance is not in love with Keith. He isn’t in love, but he is in _something._ And he knew that Keith was in something with him too, but he hadn’t put a word on it. Love is not the first he would have expected. It’s too deep. Too honest to be said accidentally, and ignored.

_Didn’t you feel any different after?_

He does feel different.

 

It’s a surprise when Lance finds Keith in the castle’s lounge, so much so that he’s startled into saying hi. Keith looks up from whatever it is he’s doing on his holoscreen, the orange glow reflecting on his face. It’s warm, but harsh.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m allowed to be here, you know.” For a moment, Keith looks taken aback by his own words. Softer, he says, “watching a movie.”

“Oh,” Lance says, “can I join you?”

Keith moves over on the couch and pulls the image on his holoscreen up to be projected on the wall. He doesn’t rewind it to the beginning, but he does let Lance read the summary. The movie begins to play, and Lance realizes that this is the first time they’ve been alone together since four in the morning one week ago, when he gathered his clothes in the dark and went stumbling back into his room. He wonders if it would be as awkward right now if he had stayed until the morning. He wonders if they would have talked about what Keith had said.

That’s what he wonders. What he says, is: “so, if I asked you to have sex with me again, would you?”

Keith turns to him. His face is relaxed, but he doesn’t meet Lance’s eyes. “Are you asking if you were any good?”

He isn’t. “Yeah, something like that.”

Keith pauses, brows knit, before turning back to the movie. “Yeah, you were fine. You were pretty good.”

Lance doesn’t turn back to the movie. He keeps looking at Keith, and keeps looking, and he doesn’t know why or how much time passes but suddenly Keith is looking back at him again, shocked and confused.

Lance realizes he is crying.

“Are– uh– what– I–” Keith begins, but stops when Lance falls back onto the couch. He stares up at the tall ceiling, tasting salt in his mouth, listening to Keith’s stuttered breathing. Now, he thinks, is the time to be honest. He’s getting really sick of pretending to be something he’s not.

“That was my first time,” is all he says.

For a long moment, Keith is silent, and the only sound is the movie playing softly in the background.

Then, he says:

“you too?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a tumblr! follow me @manic-coranic.


End file.
